"I have a maid,Alice,and she brushes a whole hour every morning and a whole hour every evening.""Don't you get very tired?"asked Jeremy."I know I should.""Mother says if you have such beautiful hair you must take trouble with it,"Charlotte gravely replied.
Her voice was so like the voice of a parrot that Jeremy's grandmother had once possessed that it didn't seem as though a human being was speaking at all.They were near the beach now and could see the blue slipping in,turning into white bubbles,then slipping out again.
"Do you like my frock?"said Charlotte.
"Yes,"said Jeremy.
"It was bought in London.All my clothes are bought in London.""Mary's and Helen's aren't,"said Jeremy with some faint idea of protecting his sisters."They're bought in Polchester.""Mother says,"said Charlotte,"that if you're not pretty it doesn't matter where you buy your clothes."They arrived on the beach and stared about them.It became at once a great question as to where Mrs.Le Page would sit.She could not sit on the sand which looked damp,nor equally,of course,on a rock that was spiky and hard.What to do with her?She stood in the middle of the beach,still holding up her skirts,gazing desperately about her,looking first at one spot and then at another.
"Oh,dear,the heat!"she exclaimed."Is there no shade anywhere?
Perhaps in that farm-house over there."It was probable enough that no member of the Cole family would have minded banishing Mrs.
Le Page into the farmhouse,but it would have meant that the whole party must accompany her.That was impossible.They had come for a picnic and a picnic they would have.
Mrs.Cole watched,with growing agitation,the whole situation.She saw from her husband's face that he was rapidly losing his temper,and she had learnt,after many experiences,that when he lost his temper he was capable of anything.That does not mean,of course,that he ever was angry to the extent of swearing or striking out with his fists--no,he simply grew sadder,and sadder,and sadder,and this melancholy had a way of reducing to despair all the people with whom he happened to be at the time.
"What does everyone say to our having lunch now?"cried Mrs.Cole cheerfully."It's after one,and I'm sure everyone's hungry."No one said anything,so preparations were begun.A minute piece of shade was found for Mrs.Le Page,and here she sat on a flat piece of rock with her skirts drawn close about her as though she were afraid of rats or crabs.A tablecloth was laid on the sand and the provisions spread out--pasties for everybody,egg-sandwiches,seed-cake,and jam-puffs--and ginger beer.It looked a fine feast when it was all there,and Mrs.Cole,as she gave the final touch to it by placing a drinking glass containing two red rose-buds in the middle,felt proud of her efforts and hoped that after all the affair might pass off bravely.But alas,how easily the proudest plans fall to the ground.
"I hope,Alice,you haven't forgotten the salt!"Instantly Mrs.Cole knew that she had forgotten it.She could see herself standing there in Mrs.Monk's kitchen forgetting it.How could she?And Mrs.Monk,how could SHE?It had never been forgotten before.
"Oh,no,"she said wildly."Oh,no!I'm sure I can't have forgotten it."She plunged about,her red face all creased with anxiety,her hat on one side,her hands searching everywhere,under the tablecloth,in the basket,amongst the knives and forks.
"Jim,you haven't dropped anything?"
"No,mum.Beggin'your pardon,mum,the basket was closed,so to speak--closed it was."No,she knew that she had forgotten it.
"I'm so sorry,Mrs.Le Page,I'm afraid--"
"My dear Mrs.Cole!What does it matter?Not in the least,I assure you.In this heat it's impossible to feel hungry,isn't it?I assure you I don't feel as though I could touch a thing.A little fruit,perhaps--an apple or a peach--"Fruit?Why hadn't Mrs.Cole brought fruit?She might so easily have done so,and she had never thought about it.They themselves were rather tired of fruit,and so--"I'm afraid we've no fruit,but an egg-sandwich--""Eggs need salt,don't you think?Not that it matters in the very least,but so that you shouldn't think me fussy.Really,dear Mrs.
Cole,I never felt less hungry in my life.Just a drop of milk and I'm perfectly satisfied.""Jeremy shall run up to the farm for the milk.You don't mind,Jeremy dear,do you?It's only a step.Just take this sixpence,dear,and say we'll send the jug back this afternoon if they'll spare one."Jeremy did mind.He was enjoying his luncheon,and he was gazing at Charlotte,and he was teasing Hamlet with scraps--he was very happy.
Nevertheless,he started off.
So soon as he left the sands the noise of the sea was shut off from him,and he was climbing the little green path up which the Scarlet Admiral had once stalked.
Suddenly he remembered--in his excitement about Charlotte he had forgotten the Admiral.He stood for a moment,listening.The green hedge shut off the noise of the sea--only above his head some birds were twittering.He fancied that he heard footsteps,then that beyond the hedge something was moving.It seemed to him that the birds were also listening for something."Well,it's the middle of the afternoon,anyway."He thought to himself,"He never comes there--only in the morning or evening,"but he hurried forward after that,wishing that he had called to Hamlet to accompany him.It was a pleasant climb to the farm through the green orchard,and he found at the farm door an agreeable woman who smiled at him when she gave him the milk.He had to come down the hill carefully,lest the milk should be spilt.He walked along very happily,humming to himself and thinking in a confused summer afternoon kind of manner of Charlotte,Hamlet,Mrs.Le Page and himself."Shall I give her the thimble or shan't I?I could take her to the pools where the little crabs are.She'd like them.I wonder whether we're going to bathe.
